


Some Soulmarks Say What We Don’t Want to Hear

by AngelCuttingOnions



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Am I broken, Angst, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Seriously why isn’t this excruciatingly angsty, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-18 19:22:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18125438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelCuttingOnions/pseuds/AngelCuttingOnions
Summary: Mr. Stilinski there's no good way to say this, but unless we take your leg you won't have more than a few months at most, your cancer has spread, but I think with this course of action we'll be able to get it all.Those were the words Stiles had on his arm ever since he was ten.





	Some Soulmarks Say What We Don’t Want to Hear

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to avoid talking about anything medical because I know nothing about anything so I’m sorry to anyone in the medical field. I did my best.

Stiles was like any other kid. He got his soulmark at the age of ten. That meant he was younger than, or the same age as his soulmate. Both soulmates would get their mark when the younger of the two turned ten. 

It was the year after his mom died, his dad was drinking and Stiles was up in his room playing his DS, hoping his dad would pass out so he could go downstairs and get something to eat. Then suddenly his arm felt itchy, he scratched it but the itching got worse, slowly shifting into a burning pain. He frantically pulled up his sleeve expecting to see a rash, or bleeding or _something._

But what he saw were lines, a bright silver color, shifting around his arm, forming into letters, words. He stared, waiting for them to become his mark. 

_**Mr. Stilinski there's no good way to say this, but unless we take your leg you won't have more than a few months at most, your cancer has spread, but I think with this course of action we'll be able to get it all.** _

He was going to get cancer. His mom just died, and his dad was downstairs drinking himself to death, and he was going to get cancer. Stiles pulled his sleeve back down and made a decision. His dad had too much to deal with, and he was going to have cancer no matter what he did.

Stiles moved on. He started wearing long sleeves to cover the mark, and over time he came to accept it. Someday he would be missing a leg. He used his time with both legs to discover that he didn’t really like sports. Lacrosse was okay, but he was always on the bench. Running was fun, he did enjoy that, but he much preferred drawing. He got that from his mother, Claudia was an artist. She could create a masterpiece with just a few colors and something to put them on. Stiles often found himself in the middle of his floor drawing picture after picture, music playing in the background as he got distracted from everything around him. 

~

There was a pain in his left leg. It was faint, and at first he thought he’d gotten it while running, but the pain was getting worse and worse over the course of two weeks. He knew it was time. He went downstairs to his father. Noah could tell something was wrong, just by the look of his son’s face. It was like Stiles had the breath knocked out of him, and all the words he had planned to say just flew off. He didn’t know what to say, so he just pulled up his sleeve and let his dad read. 

“It _hurts_ dad.”

“How long have you known son?”

“Since- since I was ten.” Stiles was eighteen now. 

Noah wrapped his arms around his boy like he would never let go. “Why didn’t you tell me kiddo?”

~

“Dr. Hale can you please come speak to a patient for me? He refuses to listen to reason and insists he needs a different doctor.” Dr. Reyes asked her coworker. “We’ve gone over all his options but if he doesn’t get his leg amputated he’s going to die. I’d like you to take over the case.”

Dr. Peter Hale rolled his eyes. He had been anxious for some reason all day, and now this. “What, you can’t handle one unruly patient now?” 

“Well I would, but he’s insisting that I can’t be his doctor.” Erica looked unbothered by his words. 

“Fine, hand his chart over, I’ll speak to him.” 

He read the young man’s chart as he made his way to the room. Diagnosed with cancer at age eighteen after constant leg pain, it had been under control for two years, but recently had started spreading rapidly. At this point, he would be dead within the year. 

~

Stiles was now twenty-one, and waiting in a hospital room after having been told his leg had to be amputated. He told the woman that he needed another doctors’s opinion. He realized he probably came off as rude, but if he was right, today was the day. Dr. Reyes came back into the room with another doctor following behind. He looked slightly annoyed to be there. Too bad for him. 

“Mr. Stilinski, this is Dr. Hale, I asked him to be your second opinion, and your new doctor if you choose him to be.” The brown haired man looked to be in his thirties, and he definitely worked out. He looked up from the clipboard he was holding and started to speak. 

~

With what he had heard from Erica, the best approach with Mr. Stilinski would be direct. Honestly, the woman could handle patients herself. As soon Erica introduced him, he looked up and started speaking. “Mr. Stilinski there's no good way to say this, but unless we take your leg you won't have more than a few months at most, your cancer has spread, but I think with this course of action we'll be able to get it all.”

The mole covered man grinned. “Is there a protocol for this, cause I think you should probably get transferred back off the case.”

Peter inhaled sharply. His soulmate was given those words from him. His _soulmate._ “I-”

“Because you can't have this hot piece of ass distracting you and having you cut off the wrong leg, yaknow?” The man winked at him. “But seriously I’ve always wondered if there’s like a hospital policy for that, because obviously you can’t operate on a loved one, but someone you literally just met probably isn’t considered a loved one.”

“I’m so sorry.” Peter finally managed to get out. 

“Why?” Mr. Stilinski tilted his head. 

“You’ve had those words on you since you were ten. That’s-” Peter was horrified that those words were permanently on the man’s body. 

“If I didn’t have the words on me we wouldn’t have known I had cancer. Plus it’s given me time to accept that I’m gonna be down a leg. Oh! Dr. Reyes! I’m sorry about earlier, I’ve had that anxious feeling all day and I kinda needed someone else to tell me what you did. Specifically Dr. Hale apparently.” He smiled apologetically. 

“Peter. Call me Peter.” 

“Okay Peter, call me Stiles.” 

Erica had been looking back and forth between the two the whole exchange. “So Mr. Stilinski, about your surgery...”

“Oh yeah! Yeah you can cut that fucker off. Am I going to be able to get a prosthetic or will I be stuck with crutches?”

“Well...” They continued talking, so Peter excused himself. Before he went, Stiles asked Peter for his number. 

~ 

“Dude, my patient is your soulmate.” Erica grinned at Peter while they were in the cafeteria later. 

“Don’t call me dude.” 

“Are you guys gonna plan a date? Wait are you texting him right now!?”

~

It was two years later, Stiles and Peter were living together. They had just gotten home from the hospital. Stiles still had no signs of cancer, so they were going to celebrate by eating ice cream and watching Grey’s Anatomy so Stiles could laugh while Peter pointed out everything wrong with the show. In the middle of an episode, Stiles grabbed the remote and paused Netflix. 

“I can’t get down on one knee because like... robot leg, also you’re warm and I don’t want to move, but Peter Hale will you marry me?” 

Peter tugged on the front of his boyfriend’s shirt and pulled him into a kiss. When they broke apart, Stiles grinned. “Sooo is that a yes?”

**Author's Note:**

> I literally just had this thought of “what if someone’s soulmark was something like telling someone they were going to die, or something else bad.” It was actually not as angsty as I originally planned. IT WASN’T COMPLETELY ANGST GUYS BE PROUD OF ME.


End file.
